My birthday

I was driving home two days ago and a friend called me to invite me to dinner for my birthday. I thought how sweet it was and we made plans. But as we talked, I realized that she was watching out for me, anticipating that it may be a hard day without Hamid. I guess I hadn’t allowed myself to really think about it. When we hung up, I thought about Hamid and how much I missed his smile, his laughter. I could feel the ache rising up as I began to cry. I remembered last year. Hamid was finally home for good on hospice. We all were downstairs in the living room, mom, dad, the kids, friends from back home. Hamid had a beautiful card for me. And I thought about how this year there would be no card from him; there would only be the silence and that dull ache. I miss those carefree days of getting together to have dinner and celebrate my birthday with friends and family. It was always simple, but perfect for us.

I kept driving and I thought about life. Thirteen years I had known him and shared my joys, sorrows, fears, and dreams. I felt so safe with him and I could be myself whether it be serious or me singing or doing my special dance for him as he laughed and pulled me close. Hamid made me feel safe. I remember lying in bed here in our new home next to Hamid. I was pregnant with Ariyana, and I knew that everything was going to be alright; I knew Hamid would take care of us and that we would always be safe. And I thought to myself, how do you ever find that again? I don’t think you do. Maybe what we had was a special gift one of those “once in a lifetime” moments which I was lucky to have for so long.

I did have a nice birthday and made it through yet another “first” without Hamid. And I am ok. Friends and family made it a special day and I realized how many people are watching out for me and thinking of me. It really touches my heart as sometimes I wonder if everyone else gets caught back up in life and forgets that Hamid isn’t here; that everyday I have to face life without him. And then I listen to the phone calls, read the messages, hear the singing, and feel the hugs from my family and I know that they haven’t forgotten and that I am not alone. Thank you.